i want to go to san fransisco
i want to see the world.
there’s a fire burning
in my heart
and i want to see where it goes.

i want to be happy
i want to be okay.

and i’m going to get there,
no matter what.
help myself to stand,
buy my own ticket,
fly away.
let my troubles melt
like candle wax.

i want to go to san fransisco
i want to see the world.
there’s a fire burning
in my heart.
and i’m following it.
all the way.

Drinking my tea
Without sugar-
    No difference.
                                        
The sparrow *****
    upside down
--ah! my brain & eggs
                                        
Mayan head in a
Pacific driftwood bole
--Someday I'll live in N.Y.
                        
Looking over my shoulder
my behind was covered
with cherry blossoms.
                                        
        Winter Haiku
I didn't know the names
of the flowers--now
my garden is gone.
                                        
I slapped the mosquito
and missed.
What made me do that?
                                        
Reading haiku
I am unhappy,
longing for the Nameless.
                                        
A frog floating
in the drugstore jar:
summer rain on grey pavements.
        (after Shiki)
                                        
On the porch
in my shorts;
auto lights in the rain.
                                        
Another year
has past-the world
is no different.
                                        
The first thing I looked for
in my old garden was
The Cherry Tree.
                                        
My old desk:
the first thing I looked for
in my house.
                                        
My early journal:
the first thing I found
in my old desk.
                                        
My mother's ghost:
the first thing I found
in the living room.
                                        
I quit shaving
but the eyes that glanced at me
remained in the mirror.
                                        
The madman
emerges from the movies:
the street at lunchtime.
                                        
Cities of boys
are in their graves,
and in this town...
                                        
Lying on my side
in the void:
the breath in my nose.
                                        
On the fifteenth floor
the dog chews a bone-
Screech of taxicabs.
                                        
A hardon in New York,
a boy
in San Fransisco.
                                        
The moon over the roof,
worms in the garden.
I rent this house.

[Haiku composed in the backyard cottage at 1624
Milvia Street, Berkeley 1955, while reading R.H.
Blyth's 4 volumes, "Haiku."]

I had to let go of your memories
As I did with San Fransisco
With its innocent corners and places
The quaint stores and my shadow

"Does it snow in San Fransisco?"
My little nephew asked
"Not always, but it did long ago"
And my eyes filled with remnants of the past

It hasn't gotten easier, years have gone by
I still remember the golden gate
The sunsets and the pleasant sky
I need you still and in vain I wait
For you to stop by
And steady my pettish state

Listen:
I say today is a beautiful day to exist.
You're existing;
you're waiting for the bus in the heart of San Fransisco.
You're painting a landscape of Penn Valley.
You're selling hashish in Portland.

What a beautiful existence!

I'm washing my sheets,
I'm smoking a cigarette,
I'm reading The Return of the King,
and I'm about to go to work.

Listen:
The cars on the highway are going somewhere.
There are people in those cares who are existing just as gracefully as you and me.
Listen:
They are existing just as harmoniously as you and me.
Listen:
They have no idea what happens to them when they die.


I jumped off a forty foot cliff into the Yuba River a week ago and my last thought before hitting the water was:
'Either I'll live and that will be one hell of a jumping rock or I'll die and be free from ignorance.'

Listen:
I don't want to die, but I'm excited to.
I'm more excited to live and I get to see you tomorrow! I get to hold your tiny hands in mine, a barista and a norcal gardener (if you know what I mean)

Listen:
I love you and I love you and I love you and I didn't lie, I didn't, I told you I'd see you again and here we are two hundred and thirty seven miles away and tomorrow I will see you.

Listen:
Praise automobiles, praise gasoline,
praise hip hop music and praise hashish, I get to see you tomorrow!

I do not wear dresses very often
so every dress I've ever owned
is still hanging
in order
in my closet.

The first,
whimsical and red
a crimson corduroy triangle
green ribbon
yellow flowers
it was for the first day of preschool
but it was also for every other  day
whimsical and red

The second:
Nutcracker pink
for days in San fransisco
when the matching coat
was necessary.
I used to dance.
Nutcracker pink.

The third:
Barefoot lavender
not the color, the scent.
Blue and french
avec des fleures jaunes.
we caught fish with brie cheese
Barefoot lavendar.

The fourth:
Navy blue didn't match
but we sewed the straps anyway
i made the first mistake
you forgave me for that one
thank you
Navy blue didn't match

The Fifth:
White Surrender.
sprinkled with turquoise
I surrendered
I didn't have to
I didn't want to
I'm sorry.
I don't usually wear dresses
I hope you still realize that.
White Surrender.

Whimsical, Red
Nutcracker Pink,
Barefoot Lavender,
Navy Blue,



White,
surrender.

From flat number 40 on the morning of January 6th 2004 I removed myself from the situation.

I felt free that day taking photo after photo looking at the world with new vigour hoping to remind myself one day in the future that the sun peeping through leafless trees on a sunny winters morning brought more joy into my life than anything else at that time.

Out of the blue two weeks later I received a phonecall from you telling me you were moving out.

A week after you moved out you told me you were going to San Francisco for a holiday.

A day after coming back from San Fransisco you told me you went there with another man.

A week after that you told me it was your boss.

A month before you moved out you told me your boss earnt good money and that we never did anything together anymore.

On the night of January 5th 2004 I read a text on your phone from an anonymous ID which said "you consume me. I can't wait to kiss you again"

The last time I saw you I told you I loved you despite the fact I knew you'd left me for your boss. In fact, I knew you'd let him take you away to San Fransisco and he had moved into your new flat. That was the day I realised you'd fallen from grace and I'd put you on an invisible pedestal for the last 8 years. We both needed to move on.

I smile on a sunny winters day when the sun peeps through leafless trees knowing I never wasted my love on you. You were a mere mortal looking for a way out.

Jesus was an alien
and Moses was a hippie.
I saw them once in Vegas,
where we drank wine.
Obviously.

At once I felt like an alien
and soon dressed as a hippie;
but that was Vegas,
where we drank wine.
Obviously.

I won million dollars on the slots
and bought a trip to space,
where I met Jesus, the alien
and we ate cakes in space.
Obviously.

I got back to Earth
and went to San Fransisco,
where I saw the hippie, Moses
and we slept on flower beds.
Obviously.

It was all a bit weird,
but after a while it came to me:
Jesus was an alien
and Moses was a hippie.
Obviously.

It's funny how no matter where you go
everything is the same. No kidding.
I've been to San Fransisco and everyone is pretending to not be fake,
and I've been to New York and they're even bigger phonies.

I walked into town once, two miles from my house to the park.
I walked along the highway and stuck my thumb out the whole way.
No one stopped until this man on a motorcycle did.
He asked me where I was going and I said into town.
He asked where in town and I said the first thing that came to mind.
Charlies Cafe, I said. We rode to Charlies Cafe which was only a 20 minute walk from where we were but whatever.
He didn't have a helmet but that was fine.
He dropped me off. I never even went into Charlies.
I walked a half block to the gas station and went inside.
I grabbed an Arizona and walked up to the counter.
"Anything else for yah?"
"Yeah uh, a pack of Natural American Spirits."
I slapped a ten on the counter and the man asked to see identification.
I told him I didn't have any but I also wouldn't need change.
He sold me the cigarettes and the Arizona and didn't give me change. It's that kinda stuff that ****** me off.

And that's what I mean. You ask someone for something and they act like they're doing you a hell of a favor and then you waive some money under their noses and they're shining your ******* boots.

I got off the subway and to the venue.
There were people filing in and smoking flowing out.
I stood in line, bought my ticket and went in. Some ******* band a friend had told me about who was playing. I was meeting him there in 30 minutes but wanted to scope it out early. A girl wearing fishnet stockings was looking cute in a booth all by herself. I sat down in the booth next to her and ordered a drink. The waiter was nice enough to forget to ask about my non existent ID. I leaned over and asked the girl if I could refill her drink.
She looked at me disgusted and said "I will let you know, that I have a boyfriend."
Jesus, it's not like I asked to **** her or anything.
"Jesus it's not like I asked you to **** me or anything."
I returned my lean to my booth. I'm usually not so curt with women but this ****** me off.
My friend never showed up and I bailed during the opening act.
I walked all the way back to my apartment and smoked.
It started raining.

Cute girls, gas station clerks, weather, they can all be *******.

Places to hide
Idaho
Nevada
Utah
Arizona

Places to fall in love
Italy
San Fransisco
Colorado

Places to never go
Texas

Places to watch the beach freeze
Michigan


Places to die
Greece

Momma big brown eye
So thin
got
snatched up
by those biblical folklore winds
Momma big love soul
in the sands.

Indian man
leather hands leather skin
alley way king.